


The Sting

by McSkirmish



Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Grayson (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Bat Family, F/M, Gotham City - Freeform, Wayne Gala (DCU)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 13:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20390275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McSkirmish/pseuds/McSkirmish
Summary: Dick Grayson always hated Bruce Wayne's extravagant galas. However, when the past resurfaces, the fake laughter, pretentious dressing and shameless gossip of Gotham's elite become the least of his concerns.





	The Sting

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired p̶a̶r̶t̶i̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ substantially by Grayson Annual 1.

**Bristol Township, New Jersey**

**29th November, 21:14 EST**

The frosty winter wind had arrived prematurely in Gotham. Dark clouds blocked the sky, heralding a cold winter, and the possibility of snowfall. The chill was felt felt throughout the Gotham-Blüdhaven Corridor. Across the north channel from the towering concrete jungle of Gotham, in the extravagant but currently quiet Crest Hill, a young man strolled briskly against the gusty breeze, impatiently checking his golden watch. He wore a lavish blue suit, and a cloth mask over the lower half of his face. A black sedan soon stopped before him and out walked a man sporting a beanie, a loose bandana over his nose and mouth, and a thick scarf around his neck.

"Taking our own sweet time, were we?" snapped the man in the suit.

"Sorry, boss, but this wasn't a walk in the park. I had to be extra careful." The scarf wearing man spoke in a harsh tone. "Didn't wish to be found out and make matters worse for you."

"McGinn, was it?" spoke the 'boss', changing the subject to mask his mistake in yelling.

"Robert McGinn, sir."

"Where's the package?"

"She’s in the backseat." He spoke halfheartedly, "Don't worry, the windows are tinted."

The rear door opened to the sight of a red-haired woman in a black dress, sprawled over the backseat. She was bound, gagged and struggling viciously. A strip of black duct tape was plastered over her lips and coiled around her head, tight enough to make her defined cheeks bulge. Her wrists were securely zip-tied together behind her back.

"Perfect." smiled the man in the suit, inspecting his captive. He gripped the woman's chin and turned her head so that she faced him. His face was centimetres from her's. "Job well d-."

"Get away from me!" She shrieked into her gag, shaking off her assailant's hand. She glared hatefully at the sneer he gave her, her emerald eyes looking murderous behind the lens of her horn-rimmed glasses.

The man chuckled quietly to himself, teasingly stroking her ginger hair. She growled, edging away from him to the best of her ability. McGinn then grabbed his employer's shoulder and spun him around, almost aggressively.

"So…where's the payment?" He insisted bluntly.

"Let's not get too hasty," the suited man shoved McGinn's hand off his shoulder, barely masking a look of disgust, "When we get to Miller’s, you'll have a heavy check in your pocket."

McGinn crossed his arms but made no effort to protest his employer’s plan.

"Do you recognise her, Bobby?" the employer asked, continuing to dust his coat off pompously.

"Well...I've not seen her before this job, sir." The pair stared silently at the infuriated but incapacitated woman before them.

"That there's Barbara Gordon. She's the Commissioner's daughter."

* * *

**Bristol Township, New Jersey**

**29th November, 20:16 EST**

**One hour earlier**

Galas were never Dick Grayson's favourite way to spend a Friday night with the family. The fake laughter, exorbitantly expensive dressing and shameless gossip never failed to annoy him. Of course, socialising was not the real Bruce Wayne hosted these events. These parties were the Batman's way of keeping tabs on Gotham's elite.

Despite Dick's dislike, no, hatred for these events, Bruce had, long ago, discovered his knack for reconnaissance and sharp instinct when it came to people. Thus, he too was often tasked with the responsibility of espionage during these functions. Tonight was no exception.

Nonetheless, every cloud had their silver linings. In this case, dancing with a certain bespectacled redhead. As the music came to an end, Dick spun Barbara and they exchanged a smile. He pulled her into a quick hug and she giggled.

"Why don't you find a table, Babs," Dick's smile was still glued to his face. "My throat's kinda dry."

"Alright, Boy Wonder. I better not find you dancing with someone else." She joked.

"Promise." He offered her a pinky finger, as if they were twelve again, and she united it with her's in a brief pinky swear.

"You're such a child." She rolled her eyes, feigning annoyance.

"Love you too." He blew her a flying kiss. He began navigating the crowd when a familiar, booming voice rang through his ears.

"Dickie! Hey! Dickie!" the clamorous voice of Anderson Reeves cut through the crowd and a firm hand grabbed Dick's arm. "It's been ages, buddy! I remember you a lot shorter, ya know, like a lot."

_Oh man_. Dick frowned at the starkly familiar smirk Anderson shot him. As the family's designated mediator, there were times where he envied Damian's freedom to be forthright. This was one of those times.

_Calm down_, he told himself as he faked a smile. _A minute of forgettable small talk and then it's back to Babs._

Anderson had gone out of his way to terrorise Dick and Barbara during their time at the Gotham Academy. Dick had a particularly vivid memory of the black eye Anderson gifted him, 7 years ago, when he had defended a freshman from Anderson’s flock of towering bullies. Nonetheless, Anderson insisted on speaking as though they were old friends. "Nice seeing you, Anderson, but I can’t be long, I have to get back to Barbara."

"Your bird can wait, can't she? Not often you bump into a fellow 'Academite'," Anderson threw an arm around Dick's shoulder directing him to one of the balconies Bruce had left open to allowed their guests some fresh air.

Unfortunately, the Reeves family had long solidified themselves among Gotham's elite. Wayne Enterprises dealt regularly with Anderson's uncle and his mother was now a lawmaker. Dick, against his wishes, was forced to entertain his old foe.

Anderson pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and offered one to Dick as he lit his own. Dick refused with a curt wave of his hand. "Always the boy scout, weren't you? Except when it came to the girls." He exhaled a cloud of smoke into Dick's face.

Dick batted at the smoke. "Um...excuse me?"

"Don't be like that, Dickie. Your Wayne's kid for god's sake. We all knew you’d been around the block a couple times, to say the least."

"No! No, it was never...it wasn’t like that...nothing close." Dick was caught off guard by the false accusation. He huffed, unable to contain his irritation. "Look, I need to get back to Babs, I promised her another dance."

"Black looks good on her," Anderson said smugly, having followed Dick's gaze to his partner, "Do you think you could give me a turn when you're done?"

"_What?_" Dick was convinced he was hearing things.

"I know what you're doing, Grayson; trying to placate your old man by taking the commissioner's daughter to a gala. Clever. Wish I'd thought of it." Dick felt his hand clench into a fist as he engaged in a mental crusade against his own rage. Anderson's lip curved into a smirk upon noticing that Dick was far from amused. "Oh, don't tell me you're serious about..._Gordon's__ spawn_. She’s got nothing to give your family!"

"_Anderson_." Dick growled. He couldn't keep the traces of Batman out of his voice. "Barbara is worth so much more than you could ever imagine. Don't you dare talk about her like this....or anyone else for that matter!"

As Dick spoke, Anderson stepped back and raised his hand in a defensive gesture which Dick had grown accustomed to seeing on the streets at night. As satisfying as it was to snap at Anderson, Dick knew he was crossing a line. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He used every second the breath to reassume the role of mild mannered Dick Grayson.

"Did you bring me out here to talk about Babs, or did you have something else in mind?" Dick's words were now absent of their previous resentment.

Anderson relaxed, though he appeared skittish. He glanced over his shoulder. _Was he searching for witnesses?_ "You're right, you’re right." Dick began mimicking Bruce's board meeting posture and expression. "Wanted to show my uncle I could get more involved in the company, so I've made some….foreign investments."

"Good for you," Dick could not mask the sardonic drawl of the words.

"Well, you see, I've been having a bit of trouble with my deliveries. I think the warehouses are...well, you know. Had any difficulties with Wayne Enterprises’s shipping...overseas deliveries?"

Dick was quick to notice the vagueness in Anderson’s choice of words and he did not like it.

"Sorry, Anderson, 'm still in school," Dick shrugged and waved off the idea like it was below him, "That's why I'm in Blüdhaven—I'm reading law. I don't have anything to do with the 'family business'. Not planning on it either."

Anderson’s expression appeared momentarily dejected at Dick’s lack of an answer, but hints of his obnoxious smirk crossed his lip. Dick immediately knew that his temper was about to be tested. “So, Wayne’s decided not to pass the baton to you?”

“Actually, I opted out,” Dick spoke in his typically diplomatic tone, “Always wanted to help people. Felt that I would be in a better position to do so as an attorney.”

"Of course, of course." Anderson sniggered. "Got a few siblings now, don't you?" Dick raised an eyebrow, uneasily, hoping it was just the cigarette smoke was getting to him. "Does Wayne adopt so many kids cause you're _that_ much of a disappointment? Ya'd think he'd of known how a circus Gypsy would turn out. Even the ginger could do better than you."

"Always lovely catching up with you," Dick sarcastically faked a smile as he marched back into the house. He was unsure if he could contain his anger if he looked Anderson in the eye once more.

"Some things never change, do they, _freak_?" Anderson called after Dick's retreating form.

_No, no they don't._ Dick thinks to himself, breathing heavily and he made his way towards his girlfriend.

* * *

**Gotham City, New Jersey**

**29th November, 21:30 EST**

The black sedan zipped through the now emptying streets of Midtown Gotham. McGinn could feel the bite of the cold on his fingers as he tapped his window. Despite the fruitlessness of her struggles, Barbara continued to wrestle her bonds and gag.

"Did you expect business to go this rough, sir?" McGinn asked his employer over Barbara's muffled cries. Ignoring the question, the man shot a disdainful quick look to the back seat.

"Shut up, damnit!" He suddenly kicked the breaks hard. With a yelp, Barbara slid off her seat and onto the cramped floor of the car. She groaned, looking at her captor in a daze. "Feel good?"

"Fmngh yngh!" She scornfully barked, glaring indignantly at the driver with her fiery eyes.

"Rough is a bit of an exaggeration, buddy." snapped the man in question, refusing to make eye-contact with the mercenary. McGinn simply huffed loudly, still gazing out of the window.

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Good. Cause everything's under control."

"Tt. Certainly explains the cargo, backseat."

"Look, the fuzz are causing trouble, okay?" the man barked, "Montoya and Bullock came by my uncle's office on Wednesday, asking questions they shouldn't be asking."

"I don't know, sir," McGinn half chuckled, "Looks like you're just digging yourself a deeper grave."

The man in the suit almost forgot to halt the car at a red light. He took the opportunity to turn to his accomplice, angrily raising up a finger before McGinn's face. "Don't you speak to me like that. What do you know? We're not going to kill her, we just need leverage on the Commissioner for one, maybe two days, then we're scot-free."

"Speaking of cargo, when's the next 'shipment'?" McGinn appeared unfazed by his employer's outburst, nonchalantly turning to face him.

"Early tomorrow morning, Palmer Industries this time." the man spoke, pride brazenly leaking into his tone.

"Tt. Sounds like unnecessary risk; using such a big business as a middle-man?" McGinn shook his head in agreement of his own words.

"Don't you see the bigger picture, Bob?," the 'boss' chuckled patronisingly to himself, "By the time the fuzz begin their investigation, the dirts off our hands, so to speak. Then the pigs are Palmer's problem."

"And the Bats?"

"Oh, to hell with the Bats!", yelled the man in the suit, slamming his foot on the accelerator, "I'm confident the Commissioner'll keep his attack dog on a leash this time...When we have his daughter at gunpoint."

"Then business is profitable, I assume?"

"Excellent, Bobby. It’s excellent," the man announced, audaciously, smiling to himself, "You can imagine the cash narcotics can bring. Free shipping too. Saves us a bunch."

"Expected no less, your uncle's a clever man,"

"Oh shut up, Bob! He's only funding this shit," the man in the suit threw a hand off the sterring wheel out in annoyance, "This was me, damnit. I made those connection, I organised the shipments and I suggested smuggling through our rivals."

"Perhaps, I underestimated you," McGinn, shrugged, maintaining his stern tone, "So, Wayne Enterprises too?"

"Yeah, Wayne, S.T.A.R., Queen…It's a big operation, Bobby." The employer turns to his still struggling captive, "And you're going to help it succeed."

"You won't get away with this." Barbara roared behind her tape-sealed lips, narrowing her brows in defiance. Her captor smirks in response.

"We'll see about that, sweetheart."

* * *

**Bristol Township, New Jersey**

**29th November, 20:29 EST**

"So yeah, that's what happened." Dick sighed. He sat on the kitchen counter while Babs finished a slice of cheese cake.

"Be glad I wasn't there to punch Anderson." Barbara huffed.

"Well, his uncle works with Bruce. Besides, with all the press here..." He closed his eyes tight and hissed out a long breath through clenched teeth, "Plus, he's just not worth the effort, Babs."

Of their little family, Dick would always maintain the facade the longest, gladly playing peacemaker. She admired him for that. It may cost him personally, but he would play his part to the end, managing a smile regardless.

"Dick, we could leave, you know? We always do — you know our dads wouldn't stop us."

He shook his head and hopped from the counter. "No. Bruce insisted we help. I'll just—"

Barbara placed a hand on his chest to stop him. He was boxed in between her and the counter. "We both know Bruce is as affectionate as a brick wall, but he cares about you."

"Does he?" He hadn't meant to continue that conversation. Deep down, he knew Bruce cared. But after his confrontation with Anderson Reeves, he was feeling off-kilter. Dick was starting to breathe heavily again.

"Breathe, Boy Wonder." Barbara pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek. She grounded him with just her touch. It amazed him how she could see through him with such profundity and tether him to reality when his emotions kicked into overdrive.

"Alright," he said with a smile.

"Alright what?" She tilted her head to the side.

His breath caught, but this time at the sight of her. He leaned in and whispered. "Let's go."

Her smile left him weak in the knees. She led him out of the kitchen and deeper into the Manor. "My purse is upstairs, I'll just fetch it and before you know it, we'll be back at my apartment and I'm sure I can come up with some way to distract you."

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed.

At the border between the hallway and the family quarters, Dick found the door unlocked. The private quarters were blocked off during these events and it was Tim's duty to ensure this. _Did Tim forget?_ Dick shook his head slightly, _No, Tim never sleeps on the job._

"My purse is on your bed. I won't be a second," Barbara said, drawing his attention back to her.

"Babs, do you hear that?" Dick spoke in a whisper, his eyes wide. She froze in her tracks.

"Dick?" A click that didn't come from the heel of her shoe tapping against the ground echoed down the hall. An almost silent hissing followed as the air grew heavy and carried a chemically sweet scent that left a bitter aftertaste. Instinctually, Barbara and Dick turned so they stood back to back, scanning the hallway from all angles for intruders.

Without a word, Barbara slipped out of her shoes and handed one to Dick. They edged down the hall, back the way they had come. Someone had locked the door after they entered.

"Don't breathe," Dick spoke through clenched teeth. A strong stench filled their noses, weighing down their heads and limbs.

It appeared that it was too late. Barbara slumped against Dick's back. The shoe fell from her hand and skipped across the carpet until it landed against the wall a few feet away. Without Barbara to lean against, Dick followed his girlfriend to the ground. His brain scrambled to piece together a plan. _We should have left sooner._

A muffled voice emerged, speaking in disjointed sentences into a phone. "Yeah, two of them…Just her?….Affirmative, sir."

* * *

**Gotham City, New Jersey**

**29th November, 21:43 EST**

The car pulled into a quiet and small warehouse, on the edge of Miller Harbour. The building was dimly lit and appeared devoid of any activity. At the centre of the room stood a stoic old man in suit pants, a red tie and a white shirt, despite the chilly weather. A mask to obscured his face. He was flanked by two burly men, each wielding a semi-automatic firearm.

"Here we go." smirked McGinn as he unbuckled his seatbelt and wrapped his scarf back around his neck.

"Bobby, I know, you'd love to chat but," said the man in the suit, blowing out a cloud of smoke and reaching for another cigarette. "My uncle isn't much of a talker. He's rigid. 'Has quite a temper. Best you just take the check and go. Greet him, I'll get the girl out."

"If you say so," McGinn huffed, eager to escape the stench of the smoke, "Your uncle is a powerful man." After the pair got out of the car McGinn cautiously approached the old man.

"Taken you long enough." The old man's had a surprisingly strong voice. His displeasure was apparent even through his emotionless facade. “Not that your tardiness was unexpected.”

"Somethings really don't change." sighed the younger man as he made his way to the rear door. Much to his shook, a powerful kick met his jaw immediately after he opened the door.

"Motherfu...!" His words trailed as he clasped a hand over his chin. He painfully flex his jaw. He would not have been surprised if it was broken. He grabbed hold of Barbara's ankles and tugged her aggressively out of the car. He pressed her head roughly against the doorframe and she shot him a pained scowl. "You'll pay for-"

"Hurry up!" bellowed the old man, "You're late as it is."

"Sorry." The man in the suit sighed, and yanked Barbara to her feet. She growled at him, wriggling wildly against his grip. She attempted to drop to the ground and kicked at his shins, "Stop fighting me!"

He had to exert a great deal of effort to usher his captive forward. He allowed a hand to trail shamelessly down her side causing her muffled screams to intensify. "Cut it out, damn it!" He shoved her to her knees and the old man slide a handgun to him from across the floor. Undoing the safety, he hovered the gun over his captive's head.

The old man paced towards the bound and gagged Barbara, who still scowled defiantly. His lips formed a cruel smirk and he roughly tugged her hair back, so he could have a better view of her face. She squealed but did her best to muster an indignant expression. "You Gordons just don't know when to quit, do you?" smiled the old man and she responded with a feral growl.

As he walked back to McGinn, the condescension returned to his eyes. His bodyguards shadowed their boss, keeping within a few metres from him "Here's the check. You're lucky I haven't taken a thousand off for every minute you've kept us waiting,"

"It is much appreciated, Mr Reeves," murmured McGinn as he stretched out a hand to receive his payment. Upon pulling the sheet of paper from his patron's fingers, McGinn's opposite palm shot upwards, open-hand, planting a concussive strike against the older man's chin.

The guards threw their guns up as the old man collapsed like a rag-doll and the quiet hiss of a smoke pellet filled their ears. A black cloud quickly blocked McGinn from vision. He leapt at one guard's feet, tackling him to the ground and striking him cleanly at his temple. The second guard proceeded to randomly open fire but a batarang dove from the rafters of the warehouse and attacked his wrist. The gun fell from his hand and a second batarang collided with the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

"What the-!?" cried the man in the blue suit. The past three seconds had just turned his night upside down. He cocked his pistol instinctively, only to be roughly spun around. He caught a glimpse of his now unbound captive before her fist flew forcefully into his view and darkness took over.

* * *

**Bristol Township, New Jersey**

**29th November, 20:41 EST**

"Gee, you hit him pretty hard, Babs." Dick grimaced as he pulled a bandana off the face of their would-be-assailant, "Probably needs a new nose altogether."

"Sorry, I was sick of holding my breath," She replied lightly. With her eyes fixed on the bat-computer and her fingers tapping rapidly at it's keypad, she accessed the GCPD database in search of their attacker's details, "I should have have his real name and history up in a few minutes."

Meanwhile, Dick plucked the gauntlet from his Nightwing armour and plugged the man's phone into his wrist-computer. He too began typing at a holographic keypad when the lift doors opened.

"I'm here," called a young voice from the cave's entrance, "What's the issue?"

"Tim, I need you to find me these keys' car, asap," Dick tossed him the key-ring but, unsurprisingly, it slipped through Tim Drake's fingers. The older man giggled as the slightly embarrassed Tim quickly picked up the keys. "Drive it to the bat-mobile's entrance when you got it."

"Wait, wait, wait. Who's that?" Tim pointed dramatically at the unconscious man, "Fill me in here, guys."

"We were attacked, Tim. We think someone's after Babs," Dick spoke while bypassing the phone's firewall, "There might be a lead of sorts in that car and I don't trust Dami to drive."

"Sure, glad to be of service," Tim nodded curtly, marching right back out of the cave, leaving it in silence for the next few minutes.

"Got him." Barbara exclaimed as her boyfriend proceeded to unravel the phone's security, "Name's Robert McGinn; 28, history of armed robbery and kidnapping. Chemical engineering dropout."

"Explains the gas." Dick turned to the plate sized diffuser they found at the hallway's entrance.

"He's a mercenary," Barbara continued, walking over to Dick, "He's always working for someone, going where the money leads him. I’ll see what I can find.”

"Nice, I'm in," Dick chuckled, scrolling through the encrypted messages. "No names, but like you said, definitely working for someone.” Dick narrowed his eyes and re-read the messages again and then again. “Babs…I have a hunch these two have met face to face. He even asked McGinn to describe what he’s wearing. The guy is just his handler. They must be part of some bigger operation."

"Babs, we've got coordinates for the rendezvous too." He grinned, passing the gauntlet to Barbara, who then sprinted to the main computer.

After a few seconds, a map flashed onto Barbara's screen. "That's 'bout a mile and a half from the Kane Memorial Bridge," she said, "On the edge of Crest Hill. We're less than a mile from there...Wait a second." She pulled up the footage of the front gate's security camera, from the past hour. She played the footage at times-twenty speed, carefully observing the video.

"Hey, look at this," Barbara called after 3 minutes of intensely monitoring the screen, "Only one person has left the Manor in the past hour, and look who it is."

"Reeves?" Dick thought aloud, "You think Anderson is behind this?"

"He _was_ the last person to interact with us. Did he say anything suspicious to you?"

"Hmm," Dick shuffled through his memory bank, "Something about overseas dealings and shipping-delivery issues. But Babs, you’re assuming that the handler was in the premises at all."

"Let’s be honest, Dick, you just don’t want to assume the worse for someone you actually knew. It could be a lead," She shrugged and crossed her arms, “Just take it with a grain of salt for now, alright? Anyways, where do we go from here? Any ideas, Boy Wonder?"

"Um…A bit of a crazy one, but yes." Dick paused, hesitantly. He took his partners hands in his. "Any chance you're up to playing damsel in distress, this evening?"

"Well, what do you have in mind?" Barbara perked an eyebrow in a curious but nervous manner.

"A sting." He declared, although his expression failed to match his animated tone, "Featuring me as 'nose bleed', over there, and you as yourself…..Well, a fictional version of yourself who's undercut is a lot less dangerous." His demeanour then switched into patrol mode, "On a serious note, we can catch these guys in the act."

"Right," Barbara interjects, "We don't know who this accomplice is and at the moment. They can deny any ties to McGinn and walk free."

Dick nods. "Exactly. So we could also completely unravel this operation, whatever it is."

"Specifics now, Dick, specifics" She clicked her fingers, "What would we have to do?"

"Um….simple." He smiled jovially, "We use the car Tim finds to meet with the accomplice....I'll drop my voice by a tone and 'McGinn' will fish for information while you'll be his 'prisoner'....Tim stays in pursuit.....We...We bug ourselves for evidence and, when we get to wherever we're going, we break character and introduce them to the _menacing_ Red Robin."

"Interrupt the operation and get the cops on the scene." Barbara finished. He nodded and a crooked smile escapes her. "Gee, _real_ simply, Boy Wonder….Alright sounds like a plan. Where does Big Bats keep the tape and handcu-?"

"Actually, if we used zip-ties, you could undo the lock with-"

"There's a pin in my hair.”

"Great. I'll leave that in your....sock maybe, during the ride."

She pulled the pin from her hair and string of ruby lock fell forward into her' face. Dick had the urge to push it back in place so he did. And so did Babs. Their hands touched as Dick pushed the hair back where it belonged, causing Babs to smile and her cheeks to flush. The action was then returned by Dick. They stayed in that position for a moment, cheeks red and eyes unblinking, until interrupted by an incoming transmission.

"Tim, here," a voice came over the coms, "Found the car. ‘m waiting outside.” 

"Um...good.” replied Dick, a little flustered, “Could you...drive it in? Babs will brief you." Dick returned to McGinn and grabbed the man's bandana, scarf, beanie and coat. After he had dressed himself in the mercenary's accessories, he applied a pair of brown contact lens, and retrieved a zip-tie and a roll of black duct tape.

"Get dressed Tim," Barbara told him as 'McGinn' arrived at the exit-tunnel.

"You're welcome," Tim chucked Dick the keys to the car as he made his way to the armoury and his ‘brother’ ruffled his hair playfully.

"Ready?" Dick asked, reluctantly tearing off a long strip of tape.

"Don't suffocate me." She said sternly.

"Promise. Curl your lips in, it'll hurt less later," Dick gently plastered the tape over her mouth, securely wrapped it around her head. After binding her wrist with the zip-tie, he stuffed the hairpin into her sock. He then helps her into the car and gets in himself.

"Comfortable?" He asked amiably but she uttered an angry grunt in response. "Um...Bearable?"

”I’ll live,” she tries to tell him through the tape and he chuckles.

"If it's any consolation, Babs, the gag kinda brings out your eyes." Dick chuckled jokingly as he started the engine and Barbara exaggeratedly rolling her eyes.

* * *

**Gotham City, New Jersey**

**29th November, 21:50 EST**

"Do you really think they'll all fit in the back?" Dick asked Barbara while he did away with his bandana and beanie, and she pealed the tape from her face. They walked through the pool of limp bodies to find each other.

"You’re right," Barbara gave him a sideward smile, raising her brows, "The trunk seems more appropriate, doesn't it?" Dick beamed, quickly taking her hands in his. "You know, I forget how good an actor you are."

"Well, I bad with memorising lines," Dick shrugged, still grinning "I guess I’m better at improv."

"So, how do you feel about poetic justice?" Barbara nodded towards the unconscious young man in the blue suit. Sombrely, Dick pulled away from Barbara and approached the man in question.

"Would have never thought Anderson could stoop this low," Dick sighed as he removed the mask from the young man's bruised face.

"I'm just glad I finally got a reason to punch that bastard," Barbara quipped and Dick did his best to stifled his laugh.

"Should we call it a night? Retire at your place," Dick offered, again offer his hand to his partner, "Dami and Bruce could stakeout for the Palmer shipment. They could do with some quality time together….as could we."

"Sounds like a plan," grinned Barbara. He spun her as he pulled her close and she placed a quick peck on his lips. A red blur dropped from the ceiling, landing a few metres from the couple.

"Cops are on their way," said the Red Robin sheepishly, refusing to look at the pair, "You guys better get out of here quick."

"Sure, shouldn't be too hard to get a cab from the docklands," Dick smirked, turning to Barbara, "I guess we could jog back to your place. Haven't done a marathon in a while."

"Point taken," sighed Tim. Dick threw Tim the car keys as he was pulling handcuffs from his utility belt, and he found himself dropping both items. "Urgh...Just go. I'll clean up the mess, here." he groaned, speaking over Dick's laughter.

"Appreciate it, Double R," said Barbara as she pulled away from Dick, their hands still intertwined. The pair began walking off playfully swinging their linked hands.

"Six years from high school and we're still skipping out on Bruce's stupid functions."

"I guess some things never change, Boy Wonder."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this was somewhat enjoyable.


End file.
